Aerys was dead.
Finally. He's truly gone, Elia thought to herself as she walked through the Red Keep.
It should feel better, lighter - and yet…
Rhaella was right. It just felt like they were waiting for chaos to truly begin its reign.
Elia had thought long and hard about how to move forward. As she walked through the hallways of the Red Keep to where Brandon Stark's room lay, she knew the northern lord would be crucial.
Will Aerys's death be enough for the North? Or is war inevitable? Each step she took along the marble steps felt heavier and heavier but she continued.
The children will not be safe if we cannot find a safe path forward.
With her children on her mind, she squared her shoulders as she arrived at Brandon's door, took a deep breath and knocked. Hearing his voice, she entered and her eyes went to the bed where she assumed she would find him. But movement quickly drew her gaze to the window where he stood, turning to face her as she entered.
"Princess," he said with a small bow of his head, his voice still slightly strained from the strangle device.
"Lord Stark," she greeted him as the guard pulled the door close behind her. "I came to see how you fare and…" She straightened her spine. "Give you some news."
He regarded her for a moment before speaking. His eyes held both glee and anger in them at once, a look that reminded her of Oberyn somehow. "I heard about the King."
"You heard?" she blurted. "How?" It had only happened last night, and she hadn't even broken her fast yet. And they'd only sent the ravens out to great houses that morning.
He looked away for a moment but she could have sworn she saw a smirk on his face. "News like that flies quickly, even if you're stuck in one room."
She tilted her head to the side, studying him, before speaking again. "Well, now that you know, we can discuss what comes next," she said, clearing her throat and gesturing for him to take a seat. He acknowledged her with a nod and took a seat on the edge of the bed.
Taking a seat in a chair by his bed, Elia smoothed the soft emerald silk of her gown and was about to ask who gave him the news before Brandon spoke.
"So is it true?" he asked a bit hoarsely before she could even begin. "Did he truly drink wildfire?"
She nodded before speaking, her eyes dulling as her mind went back to the sight from just the night before. "Yes...mixed with his own blood."
"What?" he yelled and then quickly winced in pain, grabbing his throat.
Elia nearly moved to him to make sure he was well but kept herself seated. "He seemed to think that would...make it safe for him, I suppose." It, of course, did not.
"What mad man told him that would work?" he asked incredulously. Indeed, who had truly given the pyromancers such foolish information?
"An answer we'll come to eventually," she replied evenly and then she leaned forward a bit. "How are you? Has the pain lessened any?"
His hand ghosted over his throat where the bandage was. "It's a bit better. Wine helps," he laughed, wincing again slightly.
"May I see it? The wound?" she asked hesitantly. It cannot get infected, I did not save him only for him to die from an infection.
Brandon was slightly taken aback, but nodded slowly. Well, she did save me, Brandon thought to himself.
She rose and walked to him and slowly unwrapped the linen around his throat. Brandon watched her with curiosity as she peered at his neck, gently moving him by the shoulders to inspect it.
"You look tired," he commented matter of factly, causing her to pause her inspection for a moment.
"Well," she began with an amused shake of her head. "Thank you for that blunt assessment, Lord Stark," she said dryly. "I did watch a King burn himself from the inside out and die last night."
He growled lowly. "I would have given anything to have seen that. Though I would have rather killed him myself."
Men and their blood thirst, Elia thought wearily. "With that image in your brain - and when the fate of your children hangs in the balance - it all makes it rather hard to achieve a night of restful sleep."
"Your children?" he asked, confused at the addition. "What's wrong with them?"
Her hands faltered then and she seemed stunned at his words. "Do you think me stupid and blind, Lord Stark?"
His mouth gaped open and if he hadn't been wounded, he would have leapt up and yelled at her. "No!" he croaked. He tried not to clench his jaw so his neck would not tense or strain. Calming himself, he let out a frustrated sigh. "I just do not understand what they have to do with this...your grace."
"They have everything to do with...this," she exhaled in mild exasperation before returning to look at his neck. "I know of the North's alliance with the other houses, I would be a fool not to," she said studiously, as she craned her head to look at the back of his neck. "An alliance that - combined with what my oh-so-kind good-father, the King, did to your father - could very much put my children's future at risk."
"Your children," he mumbled quietly, looking away from her. "Rhaegar's children."
"My children, Lord Stark," she stated quietly but the kind of ferocity his father used to use to force him to see reason. It snapped his eyes to hers and gods, did she hold his gaze like a warrior.
"Rhaegar barely spent anytime with Aegon before he rode off. He left us, knowing the King hated me - how dangerous he was; knowing that other lords are already working against the crown." She lowered her eyes to his neck then, resuming her inspection. "They may be Targaryens but they stopped being his children when he rode off with your sister," she finished quietly. "A parent does not abandon their child."
A parent does not abandon their child, he repeated in his head. Like father. He did not abandon me.
He tore himself from that painful thought, the violent memory that made him want to burn away too, and looked up at the Dornish princess. It was much easier to think of all Targaryens as being Aerys's and Rhaegar's spawn. Gods, it's easier not to think of them at all, let alone as the children of Elia Martell. He liked this woman. She saved me. I am alive because of her.
In truth, he thought he knew what his father's plans with the other lords were, but he wondered if he knew the true extent. But as he began to think - to truly think like his father told him he would need to do as Lord of Winterfell - he realized she was right. With father dead and Lyanna gone...Robert...the North…
He let out a deep groan of exhaustion. This isn't as simple as it seemed when I rode here. Rode here like a fool, he cursed himself.
"Do you know if my brother received my raven at least?" Perhaps that might bring them back from the precipice of chaos.
She began to rewrap the linen carefully, seemingly satisfied with what she saw. "We have not received any word from him yet, so I can only hope that he did, Lord Stark," she said softly.
"Brandon."
Her hands dropped away from his neck as she looked at him with slightly owlish eyes.
"Please call me, Brandon," he added, fidgeting slightly. Gods, why am I getting uncomfortable? It's just my name. And Father is Lord Stark. Was…
Then he closed his eyes for a moment. I am Lord Stark now though - and I now have to decide how to get justice for father, for the North. Gods, if Ned did not get my raven but he knows of father...have the banners been called already?
Elia regarded him for a moment, standing by him as he sat on the bed. As he looked up at her, a question began to spin in his mind and he did not know what to make of it - was it possible for them to be on the same side?
"Well, Brandon, your throat looks better than it did before," she told him, gently clasping her hands in front of her.
Ever proper, he thought. It did not escape him that she did not say he could call her by her name. He was about to dare to ask when a knock came at the door.
Elia called for them to enter, and a guard walked in, giving her a quick bow. "Beg your pardon, your grace, your daughter is here with her septa."
A small smile crossed Elia's lips even as an exasperated but amused sigh escaped. "Of course, show them in," she replied kindly, taking a seat once more.
The door had barely opened more before a blur of purple cloth and brown hair ran towards her, chanting 'mama' over and over.
Dressed in a light purple dress, Princess Rhaenys clambered into her mother's lap and wrapped her arms around her neck, burying her face into her hair. "Mama," the toddler greeted, her small voice muffled in dark hair.
"I'm sorry, your grace," her septa came in, huffing. "She refused to eat without you."
Elia waved her away kindly with a smile. "It's fine, I'd like to eat with her as well." Letting out a sigh of exhaustion, the septa curtsied before leaving.
Brandon watched as Elia closed her eyes and hugged her daughter, laughing lightly. She looked more free in that moment than in any of the moments they had spent together.
"Good morrow, little sun." Then she pulled back a bit from their embrace to look down at her daughter and placed both hands on her cheeks so their eyes met. "Are you well?"
"Wanted you," Rhaenys pouted. Then she looked at her with expectant eyes."Food?"
"Of course, my love. Lord Stark and I were just finishing talking to each other," she told her daughter, nodding towards Brandon.
Rhaenys then turned herself around on her mother's lap to look at the stranger. Dark indigo eyes appraised him cautiously.
"Stuck?" she said, testing the word.
Brandon let out a small bark of laughter. "Almost, Princess. Stark," he corrected her.
Her face scrunched as she examined him from her perch. Then in a flash, she had scrambled down and crossed to the bed, climbing up next to the northern lord.
She looked at him as though she were trying to make sense of him before picking up a swathe of his hair. "So dark," Rhaenys said, pressing his dark brown hair next to her slightly lighter shade as she stood up on the bed where he was seated.
The northerner looked at the precocious child, bemused. "Did you not know, Princess? I'm a wolf." Rhaenys's eyes went wider than Elia had ever seen then. "And when I howl at night, the sky makes my hair dark," he said with a grin which the little girl returned with one of her own in excitement. Then her smile fell as she looked at his neck.
"Hurt?" she asked with concerned eyes.
"Aye, just a bit," he replied gently.
Rhaenys placed a kiss on her palm and then touched his neck carefully. "Better?" she asked hopefully.
He let out a small but incredulous laugh. "Much better, thank you for your help," he told her with warm smile.
"Lord Stark," Elia interjected, trying to hide a smile. "Let me formally introduce you to my daughter, Princess Rhaenys."
The small girl straightened at that, looking at Brandon with her chin raised.
"Princess," Brandon said dramatically. Then he took her hand in his and placed a small kiss on her knuckles. Rhaenys erupted in giggles before snatching her hand away and climbing off the bed. Her laughter continued as she ran to her mother and buried her face in her lap. She turned her head a bit to peek at him, and when he inclined his head to peer at her, she buried herself back into her mother.
"I would like to talk more, Lo- Brandon," she began, both of them smiling a bit at the correction. "But I believe I need to see to this one's morning meal."
He stood up then, clasping his hands behind his back. "Of course, I appreciate you checking on me, Princess." He paused for a moment. "But yes, there is much to be...sorted out."
She appraised him for a moment before turning her attention to her daughter once more. "Come, my love. What shall we eat this morning?"
"Eggs for Egg!" Rhaenys squealed with a large smile. Elia gave her a kiss on the cheek before standing with the excited toddler in her arms.
Brandon walked them out but as they got to the door, Elia paused with her hand above the knob and then turned to face him.
"Who told you about -" she glanced at Rhaenys briefly before continuing, "about what happened last night?"
He let out a small laugh and then bent his head down to the space in between Elia and Rhaenys's heads, whispering into the younger princess's ear. "A secret for you, little Princess - maids say quite a lot when they think you are asleep," he told her quietly, earning an excited giggle from Rhaenys, as he pulled his head back and met Elia's eyes.
He held the Dornish princess's gaze for a few moments - the two adults studying the other - before she broke the moment, clearing her throat and taking a small step back. Then she summoned a small smile and rolled her eyes at him. "Don't give her ideas, please," she chastised good-naturedly, and the wild wolf replied with a cheeky grin.
Before the two royals could leave, Rhaenys interjected. "Stuck!" she exclaimed! "Come?"
Elia unsuccessfully stifled a snort of laughter as she looked from her daughter to Brandon. "Well, what do you say, Brandon? Would you like to join us as we break our fast?"
It had been difficult for him to eat much after because of his wound, but he was finally starting to improve and not feel as weak. And more than that, he found himself wanting to spend more time with Princess Elia.
"I would be honored," he replied and then turned with a wolfish grin to Rhaenys, "Princess." The gesture and smile garnered another squeal from the young girl who hugged her mother to hide her face again.
"Off we go, then," Elia said, gesturing for him to exit the room with them. "Perhaps with nourishment of our stomachs and souls, an answer will be easier to find."
As he followed Elia through the door, Brandon's mind swirled with questions, of decisions that would need to be made, of possible allies with brave hearts - and what lay ahead for them all now.
AN:
First, thanks to all the new favorites and follows! Really appreciate it
This was a bit of filler and way more serious than I was intending or hoping to do, but hopefully lighter and funnier bits to come next (I hope). Also Rhaenys is around two years old here.
One more note - one reviewer was apparently upset because Brandon cried in the first chapter - even though he had just watched his father be killed. So lemme say this: I feel like we always see the same portrayals of Brandon when we don't actually know too much about him beyond the fact he was wild, handsome and rash (and definitely slept with Barbrey Ryswell/Dustin). So I'm trying to look at this from the question of - what would Brandon be like if he had watched his father die and now had to question if his actions led to that, not just Lyanna's? So before people get into a tizzy about Brandon not being 'soft' or emotional in canon, that's what's up here.
Also I don't like doing solo POVS, I prefer to bounce between people's thoughts - sorry if it's confusing! ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
